The Survivors
by justicemuffins
Summary: Written for a dialogue prompt on avengerkink: "Don't flatter yourself Coulson, you didn't hurt me. But I spent hours holding Pepper in my arms while she cried her eyes out for you."
1. Death Be Not Proud

Tony decides that Phil—and apparently that first name is a curse because ever since he said it the first time he can't seem to stop—looks weird without a suit. He's never seen the agent in anything but and somehow he seems less whole without one. Then again, he's also never seen him lying half-dead in a hospital bed before either, so that's something. Still, there's something almost… disturbing about the whole thing. The bulk of bandages and gauze encasing the agent's left side are easily visible beneath his thin hospital gown. Typically sharp eyes are dull under a cloud of heavy medication and when he speaks his voice emerges as a thin rasp from beneath his oxygen mask.

"Who else knows?"

Tony leans forward in his seat. "Just me. No thanks to Fury."

Phil takes several slow, measured breaths.

"You hacked in."

Tony shrugs. "Well, I figured you hacked into my security system, I hack into yours… Like a _mi casa es su casa_ thing. Except… well, no my house isn't yours. Yours is mine, though."

"I have a two year old niece who talks like that," Phil says, his lips curling up at the corners.

"If she's smart, she'll hold on to that mindset," Tony answers.

He flips through the chart in his lap, humming thoughtfully. Phil makes no comment, apparently content to let Tony do the talking when he feels like it.

"Comatose for three weeks, huh? Yikes," Tony says with a cluck of his tongue. "Prognosis is pretty good considering you had a run-in with the business end of an alien weapon of unclear origin."

Tony flips a few pages back and forth before tossing the chart onto the nearby table.

"So here's how this is gonna work. When I'm done here—and by my calculations, I've got another fifteen minutes before they figure out I'm here so you _might_ want to suggest they tighten the security on this place—I'll be scooting on over to my Tower to assemble the Avengers. See, we've been playing house since the Loki incident. Banner decided the 'in the wind' thing wasn't really his style anymore and Captain Spangles delayed his road trip until we could be sure there wouldn't be any lingering threat from Loki's goon squad," Tony explains. "Anyway, I'm going to round up the troops and let them in on Fury's little secret. That's you, by the way. Then we're going to pay Fury a visit and if he's lucky, he won't find himself in the bed next to yours when we're through with him. Then I'm bringing them here."

Phil casts his bleary gaze on Tony and squints as though he's trying to decipher what the genius has just said.

"That's not… Fury's… It's not like that," he says, blinking rapidly. And boy they must have him on something strong if he's having trouble even stringing a sentence together. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really? Because it looks like he told us you died, you didn't die, and he's been hiding you here for the past month," Tony says. He leans closer to Phil. "He _lied_ to us."

"You needed the push," Phil argues.

"That doesn't mean it had to be _you_."

Silence descends on them as the words hang heavy in the air, too late to take back, too late to change. Phil looks at Tony like he's never quite seen him before, his brow knit in apparent confusion. And then, inexplicably, his expression lightens.

"I didn't know you cared, Mr. Stark," he says.

Thank God for Phil's timely snark, because Tony's not sure he could have handled the conversation he'd just lined himself up for. But Phil's giving him the opening, the go-ahead to switch gears. The casual banter, that's something he can do. That's something he's comfortable with. But he's not going to take the agent's detour. Not exactly.

"Don't flatter yourself Coulson, you didn't hurt me. But I spent hours holding Pepper in my arms while she cried her eyes out for you," he says.

It's a cheap shot. But he needs Phil to understand the damage his supposed death had done. Because right now, he's fairly certain that Phil _doesn't_ understand that. Mentioning Pepper, though, he knows gets his point across. He sees it in the way the agent's head falls back against his pillow, the way he closes his eyes, the way his frown deepens as though he's in pain. Maybe he is in pain. He sees Phil's right hand fisted in the sheet covering him, his left laying limp by his side, and wonders if maybe he should do something.

"Should I… call a nurse or something?" he asks.

He's half out of his seat when he gets an answer in the form of a fierce "_No_" from the man before him. He raises his hands defensively as he resumes his seat.

"No," Phil repeats, softer this time. "You'll blow your cover."

"Yeah," Tony agrees, scratching the back of his neck.

"I didn't think…" Phil starts. His sentence drops off there and he tries again. "No one was supposed to be hurt."

"Listen, I don't care if you've got one foot in the grave, I will gladly hand your ass to you if you try to feed me that 'acceptable loss' bullshit," Tony says, his tone sharp. "So shut up."

"Stark. Someone had to."

"You should have waited for back-up."

"There was no time."

"We could have made time."

The thought might be a bit uncharitable, but he's glad that Phil doesn't have the energy to argue with him. It's not an argument the agent should win. And yeah, maybe he's a little angry at Phil for dying. For his death being the cause of all the times he's caught Pepper with her eyes puffy and red, putting on a straight face because there's no time to cry with a company to run and a Tower to rebuild. For his death being the cause of nearly all the times Tony's had to hold her close when putting up a brave front isn't an option anymore. Maybe he's just angry that someone made Pepper cry and he couldn't do a damn thing to fix it. Until now, anyway.

"Is she alright?"

Tony looks up to find Phil regarding him very seriously. Or trying to, anyway. Based on the way his eyelids droop, Tony's guessing whatever painkillers they've got him on are really doing a number on him.

"Oh, you know Pep. She's the queen of keeping it together," Tony says lightly. He looks down at his hands in his lap and says nothing for what feels like a long time. "No. She isn't."

"I'm sorry."

For a moment, Tony's struck by the sincerity of the words. If you can get a senior agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. to sound like he's two seconds away from springing the waterworks, there's got to be something wrong with that. The pettier side of him can't help but feel a little smug at the idea that Phil's experiencing a fraction of the pain he's had to suffer through. And a part of him feels glad. Because Phil knowing that he's made Pepper cry should hurt and it very clearly does.

"You can tell her yourself when I bring everyone in for a visit," Tony says, rising from his seat. "Looks like my fifteen are up."

Just in time, too. From the looks of it, the agent is losing the battle to remain conscious. Better that he rests now so he can be awake for his visitors.

"She'll be pissed at you, you know," Tony says, pushing his chair back to its original spot by the wall.

Phil makes a point of meeting his gaze. "I can live with that," he answers softly.

Tony claps the agent on his uninjured shoulder. "Yeah, you can."

Even as he turns to leave, he finds himself pausing at the door. He fidgets indecisively before leaning against the doorframe and facing back towards the room. He can't quite bring himself to look at Phil when he speaks.

"I just wanted to say… you know it's…" he begins. He stops and frowns, scratching at the back of his neck before he tries again. "It's good. That you're not dead. I think that's… good."

Phil doesn't say anything to that. When Tony drags his gaze up, he sees that the agent is fast asleep and his words have gone unheard. He rolls his eyes and throws his hands in the air as he exits the room.

"A guy tries to say something nice and what does he get? Nothing," he grumbles to himself as he walks briskly down the hall. He pulls his StarkPhone out, holding it up as he carefully avoids a group of armed security guards. "JARVIS, tell everyone to get ready. I've got a surprise for them."


	2. Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

So, apparently I couldn't leave this one alone. Oops.

* * *

It's only after the fact that Pepper realizes that Tony had tried to call her. She doesn't need to match up the times; she knows when he made that call. What matters is that she hadn't picked up. But no, that's not what matters. What matters is that Tony's alive. Perhaps it's better that she hadn't picked up, then. She's not sure if it would have been worse to have had to take that call or if it's worse being stuck with the knowledge that she hadn't. But as Tony limps his way over to her and she rushes to meet him at a pace that surely breaks the land speed record for high heels, the could've, should've and would've's are put back in their place, out of the way and to be examined later.

He seems unusually subdued, but then, after flying a nuke through a portal into space and plummeting back to earth, she supposes that's hardly any surprise. He's as meek as a lamb as he allows her to lead him into the lift and up to a floor of the Tower that isn't destroyed.

"Have you been to a doctor?" Pepper asks, fairly certain she knows the answer.

"Nah. Just a few bruises. Didn't want to look like a wuss in front of the guys, you know how it is," Tony replies, trying for his usual bravado and failing as he gingerly eases himself back onto the pillows of the bed he's now seated on.

"Stay put," she says in a tone that allows for no argument.

He's still where she left him when she returns with a damp cloth and a first aid kit. After settling on the bed beside him, she begins wiping away the dirt and blood caked onto him. Tony hardly even fidgets, his eyes closed as he allows her to continue on as she pleases. It's as Pepper's cleaning the nasty looking gash across the bridge of his nose that he finally says something.

"We should… talk," he says, sounding uncomfortable.

Pepper bites her lower lip, lowering her hands slowly.

"I know," she says. She shakes her head. "You called. And I didn't answer."

His eyes draw away from hers.

"My phone was right beside me. I even remember being vaguely aware of it vibrating next to me, but I just assumed… I saw you on television, I assumes it was someone from the company and I ignored it," she says in a hurry. "I made it the furthest thing from my mind and it was you. I don't know what you were going to say and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to—"

"Pep."

"—but I didn't give you that chance to say it. I should've picked up the phone and now I'm always going to think about the 'what if' of this situation. What if you weren't sitting here now? What if you weren't sitting here now and I hadn't picked up?"

"Pepper."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that you tried to reach me and I wasn't there. I tried to call Phil to see if he knew where you were right after and—"

"Phil's dead."

It comes out louder than his previous attempts to stop her talking. She stares. He's looking at her now, his eyes meeting hers, and she's seeing him now, seeing that maybe the reason he's seemed so subdued is more than physical hurts and exhaustion. But his words don't sound right to her. She starts to shake her head and he reaches out, taking one of her hands in his, squeezing it tightly.

"He's dead. He died. Loki—that… guy with the horns you saw on tv— killed him," Tony says, his words clipped. Pained?

Pepper can only stare. "How?" is all she can think of to say.

"He took Loki on by himself," Tony says simply.

"But… why?" she blurts.

It doesn't make sense. Phil has always worked behind the scenes, kept things running from the nooks and crannies where he wouldn't be noticed. In fact, he prefers it. He'd told her so. That's just how he works.

Or… worked.

Her eyes water.

"Because he believed," Tony says.

He's looking at her, but he's not completely with her. His voice sounds off, his tone forced. She knows there's more to this, knows there's a whole story she's not hearing. It's clear he's not ready to tell it. Which works, for once, because she's certain she's not ready to hear it. Instead, she handles what's right in front of her. And that's Tony. Safe, alive, a little worse for wear, but right where he should be. She bows her head and lifts his hands in hers until she can press her lips to his knuckles, torn and bloody though they still may be.

"I'm going to run you a bath. You're going to get cleaned up and changed and then to bed," she declares in a voice that sounds stronger than she feels. "And you're going to rest and we can talk in the morning. Okay? Tony?"

When she looks up, she finds him watching at her again with that look she can't quite place. Like he's waiting for something. But instead he nods, looks down at his hands in hers and says nothing.

* * *

Tony _is_ waiting for something. He doesn't get it that night, nor the morning after when they don't talk like they said they would. In fact, he doesn't get it until nearly two weeks later.

He's been waiting for it, but it still catches him off guard when it comes. For two weeks he's been watching her. There had been tears at the funeral last week, sniffles and red, puffy eyes, but not what he knew was there. He would catch her like that, sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, but always, always she would find him watching and dry her eyes and smile and bring up the renovations or something Steve had said at breakfast that morning or some other distraction like how Bruce and Dummy seem to be bonding.

It's not something he can say he wasn't expecting exactly; Pepper has always found ways to compartmentalize, to come out stronger from things that other people would be crushed by. This time is different. She'd told him once, how her pet rabbit had died when she was sixteen—he'd forgotten she was allergic to strawberries, but the rabbit, for whatever reason, had stuck— how she had cried for days. A few weeks ago, Tony might have filed Phil beneath the rabbit. But the fact of the matter was, Tony had completely overlooked the agent. Granted, being overlooked was what the man apparently had done best, but while he was still Agent Coulson to Tony, he'd managed to become Phil to Pepper. And that meant something.

Now, though…

Steve comes to him in his lab, his shoulders hunched. The action makes him look smaller, somehow, and coupled with the stormy look to his baby blues, Tony knows there's something up that he's not going to like.

"Stark," Steve says by way of greeting.

"What's up, Cap?" he asks, setting his tools aside for the moment.

"I think Miss Potts is… I think you should talk to her," Steve says.

Tony waits for an explanation. Steve folds his arms over his chest and leans against the counter.

"This morning she said she'd be gone all day, so when she stepped off the lift just now, I was a bit surprised. She looked flustered by something. I asked if she was alright. She snapped at me and then apologized and hurried off," Steve recounted. "I think she may have been crying."

Tony pushes away from the counter with a slow nod. He's been waiting for this and yet somehow he doesn't feel ready for it.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Spangles, I'll take over from here," he says, rising quickly and leaving the soldier behind before he can say anything further.

It doesn't take long to track Pepper down. She's poured over her agenda book in the room she's set up as an office and as he nears, he can hear her sniffling. He lingers in the doorway, his knuckles rapping lightly at the frame and her head shoots up. Her eyes are red and wet and she wipes at them hurriedly.

"I, um… I thought you were in your lab," she says.

He slowly walks closer. "Yeah, I was. Rogers came and found me."

She makes an annoyed noise, hurriedly trying to busy herself with the papers already stacked too neatly on the desk.

"He said you seemed flustered," Tony says.

"Is that all he said?" she asks, her tone defensive.

"Are you kidding? That guy's way too much of a boy scout to keep his mouth shut when he sees a woman crying," Tony snorts. "He said you, uh… kind of snapped at him."

"I said I was sorry. I am. I _am_ sorry, God, it's just…"

She sighs shakily, covering her eyes with her hand, like she can make the whole situation go away if she just clicks her heels and tells herself there's no place like home. Tony reaches out, wrapping a hand around her slim wrist, and slowly pulls her hand away.

"I didn't mean to yell at Steve," she reiterates. She shakes her head, sniffling again. "It's been busy, since the Loki thing, you know, with the clean-up and the PR and the meetings and the renovation and the Avengers… I was just going through my schedule for the day. I wasn't paying close attention. Phil had…"

She pauses, biting her lower lip.

"I'd scheduled a lunch. With Phil. Just before… And I was so busy and I was running late and I wasn't thinking until I sat down and I looked across the table and saw the empty seat and Phil's never late and if he can't make it he always calls in advance and it's so stupid that it took me that long to remember and I…"

She stops again and Tony is frozen in place as she draws great, sobbing breaths.

"Why did he have to…?"

Tony watches as she loses the ability to speak, tears streaming down her face even as she tries so hard to stop them. She makes no effort to fight him as he herds her closer to him and lets him hold her as she sobs into his shoulder. Tony makes a quiet request to JARVIS to lock the door, draw the blinds and dim the lights as he eases them both to the floor until they're sitting propped up against the desk. The walls she'd built up steadily crumble as she finally, finally breaks. It's not that he wants this, per se, but he knew there was only so long she could hold it in. And it's time she let it out.

He loses track of how many hours he holds her close, until she's crying tears she no longer has and can only draw shaky, hiccupping breaths in their place. It was light out before, but it's nearly dark before she says a word as she sits curled against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

She tells him how having Phil around was nice. How it's nice to have someone to talk to, who understands, who can sympathize. How it's nice to know that she can trust him to look out for Tony, when he can. She says that Phil is a good man, with a good heart, and how those are so rare these days. She always feels safe when she's with him.

He's quiet as she talks about lunches and dinners and phone calls and texts and birthdays that he never would have even guessed existed.

"I managed to find the last card to complete his Captain America trading card set and gave it to him for his last birthday," Pepper says softly. "You should have seen his face."

Tony thinks of bloodstained cards and feels sick.

"I miss him," she adds quietly.

He nods. "Yeah."

Tony had been angry when he'd first heard Fury over the comm line. He'd been angry when Fury had given him and Steve his little pep talk. He'd been angry when he'd fought and angry at the funeral and he was angry now. Angrier, even. The problem is, he can't tell if he's angry at Phil or himself. He settles on Phil because he's never had an issue with holding grudges against dead men before and he's not going to start now. That, and having to admit he's angry at himself is a can of worms he's not even close to being able to deal with.

This happens three times more over the next week and a half. Once, he even walks in on a very anxious Steve trying to console an obviously distraught Pepper.

He knows he needs to do something to fix this, but it's not like he can bring the guy back from the dead. So he goes digging instead.

And he hits pay dirt.

* * *

After sneaking out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hidden medical facility—which, frankly, isn't that hard and he's kind of disappointed by that—Tony makes his way back to his Tower. He's happy to see that, per his orders to JARVIS, the Avengers are assembled along with Pepper and are waiting with some obvious agitation. Apparently, he wasn't quite clear enough because they're all suited up and ready for action.

"Would you mind telling us what's going on here?" Steve wastes no time in asking.

"Alright, alright, calm the hell down. The world doesn't need saving, so take it easy there, Point Break," Tony says, eyeing Thor who is holding Mjolnir aloft and ready to crush any foes that make the mistake of crossing his path.

"Explain yourself," Thor commands instead, lowering the hammer all the same.

"Right. Okay. I've been doing a little digging because you know, even as a kid I just never could keep my hands to myself and maybe that's not such a bad thing. We spend a lot of time telling kids—"

"Stark. The point. Get to it," Natasha says sharply.

"Gotcha," Tony says, with a slow nod. Not like you can blame him for being a little giddy, though, and when he gets giddy he talks a lot. Well, he already talks a lot, so more than usual, he supposes. "So we all remember Fury telling us Phil was dead. We remember the funeral? And the crying and the general unhappiness?"

He sees Pepper purse her lips and figures maybe the theatrics are a bit too much this time. So he hurries things up.

"You know what spies are good at? Lying. And if it turns out that you're the spy of spies you're good at telling really big lies," Tony says. "Like the kind that might, oh, you know, assemble a group of superheroes to save the world."

"Wait, wait, wait," Clint says, shaking his head. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Phil's not dead," Tony says bluntly. "Get the feathers out of your ears, birdbrain."

"That's not funny," Steve says darkly.

"I'm not joking," Tony counters. "I was just with him. And I told him we'd all be coming back to visit, so maybe we should pick up a fruit basket or something on the way over."

"Tony, if you're lying—" Pepper begins.

He throws his hands up in frustration. "Come on, Pep, please. Do you really think I would lie about this? Really?"

She looks him in the eye and shakes her head. "No, but…"

"I wouldn't put it past Fury," Natasha notes. "But this is something that I'd prefer to see with my own eyes before I go taking your word for it."

"Wow, nice to know you've all got such confidence in me. Really. Go team," Tony drawls.

"I think," Bruce intercedes calmly before they can start bickering, "that before we do anything else, we need to see Director Fury."

"What an excellent suggestion, Dr. Banner."

They all turn simultaneously at the sound of the voice and there, walking off the lift, is Nick Fury.


End file.
